


I'm only here for the firearms

by emullz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, but major, mostly canon compliant, post 1.09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emullz/pseuds/emullz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post 1x09, bellamy and clarke go for a walk. when clarke gets hurt, bellamy doesn't even know where to begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He’d asked her to go look around the loose perimeter of camp to see if any of the food they’d foraged for had come back in the low lying bushes. He told her it was because she was short and because he didn’t want conversation, but he knew she needed a break. Clarke worked harder than anyone.

She said yes because she didn’t want to be around anyone she could afford to be weak in front of. Breaking down wasn’t an option, not while the camp was in fear every second of every day. Bellamy forced her to put on a good face. He forced her to be strong.

 

\--

 

He took a gun. Oh, of course she knew why, but it still made her angry, the way they toted them around the campsite like they were toys. He caught her glaring at it, and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I recall you shooting one of these and liking it, Princess.” Clarke wouldn’t let herself give in to his smirk. 

“I’m a control freak, not a murderer, Blake,” she retorted. “Now are we foraging, or are we discussing morals?” 

Bellamy’s smirk disappeared, and he replaced it with his usual apathetic expression. “This way.” 

They wandered through the brush, Clarke stepping carefully into Bellamy’s larger footsteps as he swiveled his head around expertly. The bushes they’d found berries on previously hadn’t seemed to sprout any new ones (not that Clarke had thought they would, this close to winter, but it never hurt to check) and they hadn’t run into any animals along the way. The only things she picked up were the last couple of acorns scattered on the ground. “You could help me look, you know,” Clarke said as she bent down once more to pick up another acorn. “I assumed you asked me out here because we were actually going to work together.” 

“I assumed you knew I’m only here for the firearms,” Bellamy said, not taking his eyes off the forest around them, “but now I’m beginning to wonder if you actually think I’m out here for the company.” 

“I wouldn’t mind some conversation. You know, so this isn’t a complete waste of my time,” Clarke huffed, trying to keep her eyes on the footsteps they were leaving behind as well as the plants around them. And then she walked right into Bellamy’s back. He barely noticed the indignant noise that sprung from her lips, slightly muffled by his jacket. 

He was too focused on the nest in the tree above them. He let out a loud and sudden whoop, turning around to see Clarke’s grin. 

“Gimme a leg up,” Clarke said hurriedly, not wasting any time bracing her hands against the trunk. Bellamy swiftly laced his fingers together and placed them under Clarke’s heel, easily getting her up to the low lying fork where the nest lay. 

“You taking that long just to antagonize me, or do you just have T-Rex arms?” Bellamy joked, his voice strained from holding Clarke’s weight. He could hear her laugh from her perch in his hands, her knees shaking ever so slightly. 

“And here I thought you were the-“ Clarke began, looking down at Bellamy with her hands clasped around the nest as an arrow bloomed from her stomach.

Bellamy couldn’t move. He could see the feathered tip and the red stain spreading, growing larger with each millisecond he was paralyzed. The eggs were on the ground, each smashed to pieces. Clarke swayed on her foot and then toppled over, landing awkwardly in Bellamy’s arms. 

He set her down on the ground softly, but he could still hear her hiss in pain as her back touched the forest floor. The sight of her hair resting on the last fall leaves jolted his mind back into focus. “Clarke? C’mon, Princess, I need you awake right now. I need you to talk to me.” 

He knew he should’ve been scanning the tree perimeter for more grounders, but when he looked at Clarke, her blue eyes were looking into his and he couldn’t look away. Not now, not when she might slip away. “Bellamy,” she whispered, her breath coming in pants. “It hurts.”

He couldn’t stand how plaintive her voice sounded, how he could finally understand why the Ark considered her a child. 

“I need you to tell me what to do, okay? I don’t know how to fix this, I’m the stupid one, remember? What do I do?” Clarke’s eyes began to flutter shut as Bellamy’s panic levels rose. “Stay awake, Clarke, please, please, I need your help.” 

“Moonshine,” she muttered, her head lolling back into his hands. Her hair was still fanned out on the ground, and as he reached to push it away from her face a streak of blood dyed it red. “Then… get it out.” 

Bellamy hastily pulled a flask out of her pack and poured some on his hands and her stomach. She whimpered as it mingled with the blood staining her shirt and he felt like he was going to pass out. 

“Push it out,” Clarke gasped. Bellamy lifted her chest up so that she bent at the waist with her head on his shoulder. He could feel her tears sinking into the fabric of his shirt, quickly dampening his whole shoulder. He also knew that she was holding most of them back. 

He snapped the feathered end of the arrow off and pressed her head firmly into his chest. “You ready?” 

He felt the smallest of nods. He positioned his hand on the end of the snapped off arrow, still holding her close to her body. Then, he pushed.

She made a strangled noise, seemingly choking on her own pain. It was in that moment that Bellamy wanted to kill every grounder that lived on this earth, to hear their screams as each one of them felt the pain they caused her. 

And suddenly her head lolled back off of his shoulders, and her eyes were closed and her lips were pale and he couldn’t remember what to do, couldn’t even form a coherent thought, and she was almost gone and all that he could do was try to call her back because it was his fault, he’d asked her out here and it was all his fault she was dying on the forest floor of a planet she’d just learned to call home. 

His hands were covered in her blood and it wouldn’t stop leaking out of her stomach, and then he remembered to press down on it, to rip off the sleeve of his shirt and then the hem and then his whole jacket as each got soaked through with the blood that no amount of pressure could seem to contain. 

When he finally understood that she wasn’t going to wake up and bark orders at him like he’d counted on since they’d landed on the ground, he gathered her up in his arms, cradling her head on his shoulder, and sprinted back to camp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bellamy arrives back to camp with clarke. nobody knows what to do. chaos ensues. also, lost parallels.

All Clarke could remember was pain. Blinding white, brilliant pain, and a figure in a faraway tree. She’d felt strong hands break her fall, lay her down on the ground. And then, pain so awful she couldn’t feel anything at all, and then it was dark.

She was in his arms again, she realized suddenly, managing to crack her eyes open and watch the forest pass her by. She didn’t remember why until she felt the arrow again, piercing her stomach with each step he took. She couldn’t help crying out, a high, whining, pitiful sound that Bellamy heard over his pounding footsteps. 

“You’re going to be okay,” she heard Bellamy say between labored breaths. “We’re almost there, I promise, I’m going to get you back safe.”

Clarke gripped his sleeve with all the strength she had left in her fingers. Her midsection felt hot and sticky and sort of dull, and she knew that Bellamy wasn’t telling her the absolute truth. She’d saved enough people from spear wounds and knife wounds and gunshot wounds down on the ground, and she knew from experience that they didn’t always make it off of her operating table. 

And so she kept herself awake, feeling each rock and stone that Bellamy landed on like a punch to her gut, fighting the incredible urge to follow the stars that swam before her eyes until she heard the sudden bellows of Miller yelling “open the gate!” and someone’s shriek at the sight of Clarke covered in blood. 

Octavia was there, suddenly, her hands underneath Clarke’s back, supporting her weight and letting Bellamy’s posture sag slightly. “We need to get her into the dropship,” Clarke heard his voice say, urgent and low. “Do you remember Mom teaching you how to sew?” 

Octavia looked up from Clarke’s face, her eyes wide. She nodded slowly. 

“I need you to go get a needle and thread, okay? And some more moonshine. Now!” He barked, sending her scampering. He sent Jasper off for cloth to soak up the blood, Monty for bandages, Raven for water, all of which he had plenty of in the dropship, three steps from where Clarke lay on the table. 

Bellamy closed his eyes and realized that her bloodless face was burned onto the inside of his eyelids. “Five seconds, okay, Clarke? Give me five seconds and then I can lead them again. You’re stronger than I could ever be, you’re…” Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut even harder in an attempt to see only darkness. It didn’t work.

“One…” he took a deep breath. Clarke’s face, adamant about the fact that her wristband would never come off, replaced the one of her dying. “Two…” the cup of moonshine she’d taken after he’d told her to loosen up, a smile in her eyes. “Three…” she knelt next to Atom, doing what he couldn’t and plunging her blade into the side of his neck as she hummed. “Four…” his eyes met hers, and she told him he wasn’t a monster. “Five.” 

Bellamy’s eyes sprang open as he set to work, pouring moonshine over his hands and setting his blade in the fire as he ripped open the bottom of her shirt, exposing the torn flesh that the arrow had left there. “Hold her down,” he commanded steadily to Raven and Monty just as the arrived back with their supplies. 

The hiss of the blade on Clarke’s skin was drowned out by her screams. The guttural noises tore from her throat, each hitting Bellamy like a punch to his chest. The screams turned to whimpers as Bellamy finished his work and, with effort, managed to unclench his fingers and drop the blade. It landed with a clatter onto the floor of the dropship. Octavia let out a sobbing noise, halfway between choking and crying. Clarke’s head lolled to the side, her eyelids relaxing but still staying shut. 

“O, do you have the needle?” he asked, not taking his eyes away from Clarke’s rising and falling chest. There was no answer. “Octavia!” he snapped harshly. 

A trembling hand placed the sliver of metal into Bellamy’s palm. “I can’t… I can’t thread it,” her voice came from behind him. “My hands won’t- Clarke is-“ 

“We’re not sewing it now,” Bellamy said curtly, refusing to look away from Clarke’s chest as it labored to rise and fall. His fist closed. 

“What?” Jasper squeaked from behind him. “That’s what Clarke-“ 

“I don’t know what Clarke would do, God damn it!” Bellamy bellowed, turning to face Jasper. “And until she wakes up and tells me, I’m not going to risk infection and make this any more painful than it has to be, do you understand?” 

Bellamy felt a hand grasp his shoulder. “What if she doesn’t?” Bellamy jerked his body away at the words, finally tearing his eyes away from Clarke. “We need to be doing something now, Bellamy. We can’t just leave her lying on the table, waiting for her to wake up or die!”

“Shut the fuck up, Finn,” Bellamy said harshly. “We all know Clarke. She wouldn’t just leave us without telling us what to do.” 

“Yeah,” Finn said, suddenly on the offensive. “I know Clarke, and she knows that we can’t always be optimistic down here! She wouldn’t rest until she saved you, why aren’t we doing the same for her?” 

“I’m not a savior!” Bellamy’s calm demeanor seemed to slip away as his voice gained volume. “I’m not Clarke, I don’t know what to do when someone’s dying in front of me! I’m not as smart, I’m not as strong, I’m not as brave. But I am the person that Clarke picked to lead next to, and I believe in her more than anyone in this world. She will wake up. So either get out or shut up.” 

There was silence. Everyone watched Finn turn on his heel and stalk out of the room. He jammed his hands in his pockets, and Bellamy noted with a grim satisfaction that they were clean. 

“Wake her up, Bellamy,” Octavia said gently, breaking the silence. Her voice had stopped shaking. “She can’t do this alone.” 

Bellamy looked towards the group that stood behind him. Their faces were pale and their eyes were wide. Monty was still holding an armful of bandages from the storage hut, Jasper was trying to look everywhere but the blood on Bellamy’s hands and failing, and Raven’s whole body was covered in a mixture of gunpowder and sweat. There were tears trailing down Octavia’s cheeks. 

He turned back to Clarke and wiped the blood off of his hands and onto what was left of his shirt. Then he took a step forward.

~

Clarke just wanted to rest. Everything was blurry and cold, and she didn’t like the way that the air felt on her stomach and she couldn’t remember why. She wanted someone to go to her tent and get her blanket, but her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton she couldn’t get her lips around the right words. And, anyways, she could just keep her eyes closed and go back to sleep. 

“Clarke,” she heard a voice boom. There was hot breath on her ear. “I need you to open your eyes.” 

A strong hand gripped her shoulder and squeezed. Clarke’s shivering intensified and the discomfort around her stomach began to feel more acute. She began to wish she’d never gotten shot by the arrow in the first place, then she’d be able to sleep in peace.

And then she remembered the arrow and forced her eyes open. 

Bellamy’s freckles winked down at her, but nothing struck her more than his look of absolute relief. His shoulders seemed to unconsciously rise and his spine straightened out. “What do I do with you, Princess?” 

“Do I look pale?” Clarke asked with difficulty. Just as quickly as she seemed to remember getting shot, she started to remember why she’d loved the fuzzy feeling. 

Bellamy nodded, and his face dipped in and out of her vision oddly. “My head… feels like… it could float… to the Ark.” Clarke choked out. 

“What?” Bellamy asked, leaning in closer to her. She wanted to get his hair out of his eyes, but she didn’t think she could move her arm. “Clarke, stay awake!” 

“Tired,” she muttered. She could feel the warm air of his protests hitting her cheeks. “Disinfect…?”

“We cauterized it. Do you know what to do next?” Octavia pushed Bellamy out of the way and put her hands on either side of Clarke’s face. “How do we fix this?”

Clarke wished willfully, like a small child, that Bellamy would come back and tell her it was going to be okay. She thought she’d believe him, if he said it himself. But Octavia’s eyes wouldn’t leave her alone.

“Clean. It needs… clean.” Clarke lifted her head up slightly, trying to find Bellamy, trying to tell him something. She knew what it was, but she couldn’t remember until she saw his face. Her stomach screamed. Or, maybe it was her mouth. She didn’t know which. 

And then there he was, pushing her head back onto the jacket that was balled up on the table, brushing his fingers over her forehead and murmuring to her, over and over, “it’s okay… it’s okay…” 

Clarke’s eyelids fluttered. “No, no, stay with me,” Bellamy whispered urgently. “I don’t know what to do if you go away again. Come on, Clarke!”

“I remembered,” she muttered, each syllable a battle. “Wells knows where it is.” 

“You can’t go see Wells yet, Princess,” Bellamy said, his voice hinging on panic even as he tried to keep it level. “I need you right here with me.” 

“Wells knows where it is,” Clarke muttered once more. Then her eyes fluttered, and this time they didn’t open back up.

Bellamy whirled around to face the rest of the room. Octavia stood next to him, her hands cupping empty air as though Clarke’s face was still between them. Jasper and Monty were ashen faced. Raven looked lost. 

“Watch her,” he barked, and then strode out the door. He looked once, over his shoulder, in the hopes that he’d see blue. All he saw were eyelids and Octavia’s hand gripping her limp fingers like a lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, yeah, there's some lost stuff. like, the whole five seconds thing. i felt like it was something bellamy would do, you know, let the fear take over to calm him down. i don't know. i hope that wasn't too weird or anything, because i'm pretty sure i rewrote it 47 times and i'm worried if i do it over again it'll just be endless tropes. 
> 
> so, anyways, i hope you enjoy this. more chapters soon (i'm lying. i'll have them the next time a big project is due. of course that's when i write fanfiction and don't do homework).
> 
> please keep reading and (hopefully) enjoying.
> 
> ***sidenote-- i did a lot of googling about cauterization and proper medical procedure, and i hope i didn't get it too wrong? like, i hope i didn't screw it up so badly (you know, like i screwed up my internet history. it kinda looks like i stabbed someone and am really confused about what to do about it.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bellamy finds finn. there's some yelling. and an attempted cliffhanger.

When Bellamy walked out of the dropship, he didn’t expect to see the entire camp waiting for him. 

“Is she okay?” Monroe stepped forward. He could feel his face settle into stone, looking at the crowd of people with white faces and wide eyes. He had to be a leader. Clarke would expect it from him. 

He hadn’t seen her cry about Wells until she’d insisted on helping him dig the grave, and even then it was just tears dripping onto the soil that she wouldn’t acknowledge even to wipe them off of her cheeks. He needed to give her the same respect, the same strength. 

“She’s still here,” he said gruffly. He couldn’t let his voice waver. “Now someone find the spacewalker. I need to talk to him.” 

“Finn?” Miller jerked his thumb towards the gate. “He took off five minutes ago. Wouldn’t answer any of our questions.” 

“That motherfucker.“ Bellamy took a deep, shuddering breath. “There’s grounders out there. They’re armed and hostile. Everyone stay in here, I want a gunner at each station. If you aren’t armed, don’t even look outside the fence. I don’t want anyone dying because they want to make raspberry jam. Guys, please make sure you look before you shoot, please, I don’t want a bullet in my face when I get back here with the son of a bitch.” 

“You want company?” Monroe asked. Miller stepped forward quickly. “Like you said, they’re ready to kill. You need someone watching you’re back.” 

“This is spacewalker we’re talking about here. He can’t have gotten far.” Bellamy forced a smirk onto his face. “You two are in charge. If I get back and someone’s dead, there’s going to be hell to pay.” 

Bellamy wished he could will his words back into his mouth. If he came back and Clarke was dead… He slammed the gate behind him, taking a few strides away from camp before throwing all signs of levelheadedness behind him and bellowing “Finn! Yeah, you, dumbass! We need to talk!”

There was no answer. He studied the careless tracks made by Finn’s boots, leading heavily to the west. They followed Bellamy’s double-heavy strides from when he came sprinting back with Clarke in his arms. Bellamy gritted his teeth. The jackass thought he was going after the Grounder who attacked Clarke. 

Bellamy knew better. The kid was running towards his death. And then, for the second time that day, he steeled himself and began to sprint. 

~

Bellamy caught up with Finn not five minutes later, finding him brandishing a knife wildly and swiveling his head frantically from treetop to treetop. 

He gripped Finn’s shoulder roughly, jerking him back and then sending him to the ground with a quick shove. Finn looked up at him, his brows so low on his eyes it was almost comical. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Clarke?” 

Bellamy didn’t even deem the question worthy of an answer. “I told you to get out, not get yourself killed, you piece of-“ 

“Clarke is dying and someone needs to pay for it!” Finn screamed. “They need to pay for it!”

“I was going to leave your judgmental hypocrisy alone while I attempted to save Clarke’s life,” Bellamy spat, “but I have to say, this is disgusting. You didn’t want to kill anyone when Wells and Charlotte died, when Roma was pinned to a tree with an axe, or when Jasper was screaming himself hoarse because someone put a spear through his chest, but now?”

“Clarke is more important than-” Finn hissed through his teeth, still on the ground. Bellamy laughed.

“You don’t have any right to talk about them like that, like they were less than anybody! Because it seems to me that ever since you got down here you’ve been playing a little game with everyone, convincing them you cared about everyone when really you only look out for yourself. You’re no angel, Spacewalker. I know it, you know it, Clarke knows it.”

“Don’t talk about her like you know what’s happening!” Finn’s eyes looked as if they belonged to a wild animal. “You don’t know anything about- about Clarke and I!”

“I know she’s too good for the likes of you,” Bellamy said, breathing heavy. “And I seem to remember that while all her friends are trying to keep her alive, you’re running off on some vigilante quest in the forest!” 

“If you’re all so busy ‘keeping her alive,’ what are you doing out here, huh?” Finn stood up, finally, taking a step towards Bellamy. 

Both men ceased moving and just stared at each other, chests heaving, hands clenched. 

“I came to ask you a question,” Bellamy said softly. His voice dripped with malice, every word a dagger. “She said something to me. ‘Wells knows where it is.’ Now, I didn’t know the kid half as well as you did, so what is it he knows?” 

“The only thing I remember us doing was gathering supplies before the acid fog hit,” Finn said. Where Bellamy’s voice was sharp, Finn’s was dull, emotionless. Bellamy knew it well. It was the voice he used when he told Clarke Wells had died. The voice he used when he felt like he’d given in. 

“Think a little harder.” Bellamy didn’t take his eyes off of Finn, watching as the boy’s gaze darted from Bellamy’s eyes to the treetops and then down to the ground. They flitted from place to place restlessly. 

“That was the night we spent in the old car, with the whiskey,” he said to the ground. “We were drunk, and I barely knew the kid, okay?” 

“No. No, you know something, you’re just too busy crying about how hard your life is gonna be when she’s gone to give a goddamn second to think about what Wells could’ve found! Stop planning the funeral and think!” Bellamy’s hands were knotted in the fabric of Finn’s shirt. 

He looked at them strangely. They didn’t look like his own. He didn’t remember getting any closer to Finn, and yet, there were his hands, curled into fists, right on his chest, just over his heart. They unclenched slowly, and Finn let out a breath. 

“I remember being by the river, when the fog hit,” Finn said softly. “And I told her to stay in the car, even though she insisted that she had to go save Jasper as soon as the fog cleared. I wanted her to-“ Finn’s words caught in the back of his throat. 

“Why were you even-“ Bellamy didn’t finish his sentence. He turned on his heel and ran, leaving Finn standing alone in the clearing, his eyes finally stilling as they reached a red stain on the ground. 

Bellamy didn’t look back. If the kid wanted to die, better him than Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls tell me if you think that my characterization is off because i've been rewriting this argument for like 2 weeks and i can't see past my own edits so constructive criticism is appreciated!! 
> 
> hope you enjoy. also, imagining monty making raspberry jam and almost getting killed by grounders makes me laugh every time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end of the story (or, clarke gets better)

Bellamy was soaking wet. He was covered in mud. He could barely catch his breath. 

 

But he was carrying a handful of red seaweed and he was almost back to Clarke. 

 

He stomped into the dropship with no warning, shocking Octavia and Raven to their feet. Monty didn’t move from his vigil near Clarke’s head, just looking up and meeting Bellamy’s gaze with a helplessness Bellamy never thought he’d see in the young boy’s eyes. Jasper was nowhere to be found. 

 

“What’s that?” Raven asked shakily, looking pointedly at the dripping plants in Bellamy’s fist. 

 

Bellamy didn’t respond, just marched up to Clarke in all his muddy glory, holding the seaweed over her head and letting it drip onto her eyelids. “I got this for you, Princess. You wanna wake up and tell me what it’s for?” 

 

Clarke didn’t stir. Bellamy noted with a slight flash of panic that her face had gotten paler since he’d last seen it. “Clarke. This is seaweed and I’m a stupid, uneducated, stubborn asshole who never let you teach me anything. All I’m good for is collecting it. Please, please tell me how to help you.” His hand was leaving mud streaks across her cheeks. 

 

“Bellamy, I-“ Monty had his eyes squeezed shut, remembering. “My parents, they were in agriculture, and I remember them working with saltwater plants with antibiotic properties, and- well I think you grind it up and use it as a salve, but I don’t-“ he stopped short as Bellamy thrust the plant into his hands. 

 

“Do it,” he said, his voice breaking, and then he was back to holding the wet cloths Raven provided against Clarke’s forehead and brushing the bloodstained hair away from her face. 

 

It took Monty a matter of minutes before he’d created a sort of red chunky paste that Octavia helped him spread over the puckered wound in Clarke’s stomach. Once it was covered by seemingly the only non-dirty material that was in the entire camp, Monty announced that the only thing to do was to wait. 

 

Bellamy knew exactly where he’d be waiting.

 

\- -

 

When Clarke woke up, her first thought was that her head was being held underwater. Then she wondered whether it was stuffed in cotton. And then it hit her that she could figure that out if she opened her eyes and figured out where she was. 

 

The first thing she saw was Bellamy’s face splitting into one of the biggest and only smiles she’d ever seen grace his features. 

 

“Hey,” he said, then softer, “hey.” Clarke felt her lips pull up into a smile involuntarily. 

 

“Hi,” she said, hoarsely, her mouth as dry as it had ever been. Bellamy held a cup of water to Clarke’s lips and she drank greedily. Bellamy wiped off the drops that escaped through the side of her mouth. 

 

“Nice to see you alive.” Bellamy pushed back on her shoulder when she tried to sit up, holding her down on the bed. “Oh, no, you don’t. I run all over the goddamn forest just for you to kill yourself trying to get out of bed.”

 

Monty burst into the dropship, and, seeing Clarke’s open and alert eyes, held up his bandage, smeared with more seaweed. “I just have to replace the one you have on.” 

 

“What’s the red stuff?” Clarke asked weakly. 

 

“Bellamy brought back seaweed that I recognized from the Ark.” Monty busily cleaned off the area around Clarke’s stomach and applied the bandage. “And I think it worked, but the only person who could really tell us would be you.” 

 

Clarke twined her fingers with Bellamy’s, squeezing as Monty poured a liberal amount moonshine over her wound. 

 

“It’s good to have you back, Clarke,” Bellamy said to her fingers. Clarke squeezed his hand in response. 

 

\- -

 

Two days later, after Clarke had been fussed over by Octavia, scolded by Raven, and laughed a lot (albeit painfully) with Monty and Jasper, Bellamy finally reemerged by her bedside. 

 

“Hey, stranger,” Clarke said lightly. “You here to bust me out?”

 

“I thought you were gonna die,” Bellamy said quietly. He stood in the doorway of the dropship, immobile and shrouded in darkness. “I thought I was never going to see you again.” 

 

Clarke sobered up quickly and shifted her body on the makeshift pillows. “I’m okay. That’s the one thing I remember, knowing I’d be okay because you kept telling me I would be.” 

 

“I can’t keep doing this, Clarke.” Bellamy took a step closer. 

 

“Doing what?” 

 

“Hating you. I can’t keep calling you names like I don’t care, I can’t keep telling lies. I can’t watch you die like that again.” He didn’t meet her gaze, looking instead at her stomach, at the part of her shirt that Jasper couldn’t get the blood out of, no matter how much he washed it. “Clarke, it almost killed me.” 

 

“It wasn’t too fun for me either. Now will you help me up so we can get back to our jobs? Octavia said she’s not letting me leave for another two days.” 

 

“Didn’t you listen, Princess? I’m not watching you injure yourself any more than I have to. You’re staying in the dropship.” Clarke’s smile slipped from her face within seconds. But when Bellamy pushed her hair out of her eyes and then slid his hand into hers, she didn’t mind staying right where she was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is over. it was my first bellarke and i've written a lot since now and i don't really know what this is supposed to be, but if you enjoyed it i'm glad and if you didn't i hope this didn't take you too long to read and i hope you put your (constructive) criticisms in the comments. thanks for reading. sorry there was no kiss. i tried to fit it in, it just didn't feel right. and besides, we're used to making do with heartfelt confessions.


End file.
